All In The Family
by Sterling Lee
Summary: With the help of the Ten-Year Bazooka, we find that Xanxus has somewhat mellowed with age. Contains small biting children, vomit humor, and liquefied brain matter on the carpet. Utter crack.


_Author's Note:_ I've done it! What you're looking at here is the **new and improved version of _All in the Family_**. It's been edited to improve coherence, flow, and, hopefully, hilarity. Plus, there are roughly twice as many footnotes. There's always that.

For a while I actually started to hate the first incarnation of this story. There were truckloads of little niggling problems that made me cringe when I reread it, and I got antsy leaving it up when I knew I could do better. I thought the story and everything about it was sort of stupid, and it took me a while to realize that stupid was the whole point. I don't mean to insult the intelligence of all the wonderful people who have reviewed and faved this story, but the fact is that it isn't fun because it's...sophisticated. It's a mishmash of absurdity, and I know _bazookas do not work like that_. So, what the hell. Here it is.

* * *

Sawada Tsunayoshi had decided long ago that fate had it out for him, but that had been back when he was still normal. It had been the kind of self-pitying thought that all teenagers entertain at some point in their dull little lives: _She won't even look at me. My teacher hates me._ _Why won't my parents let me do what I want? _

He had never really thought about what it meant until stuff started blowing up around him.

All of a sudden he had gone from nobody to someone he really, really didn't want to be. Nowadays he dodged bullets and…_other_ things that were more pleasant not to mention, and was hardly even surprised when Reborn got bored and staged assassination attempts, "to keep his instincts sharp".

When he relaxed, which was during a small period of time directly proportionate to how far away Reborn was, he could almost say he was getting used to it. But then something would happen to remind him that whoever was in charge of the universe really just hated his guts.

Things had been quiet for a while now. Weeks had passed since the battles for the Vongola Rings, and Tsuna was keeping a mental tally of how long it had been since something or someone in his immediate vicinity had uttered a death threat, spontaneously combusted, or transformed into a giant robot. He was getting restless, and he felt sure that whatever peace he had couldn't last long.

He was right.

One morning, Reborn blasted him into wakefulness, followed him down to breakfast, and eyed him as he brushed his teeth, all the while dropping ominous little hints about the state of his mental health and how it could very possibly go into decline some time soon. It wasn't until after school that he returned home to find out just what his tutor had meant.

His most enthusiastic Guardian had been lying in wait, and Tsuna tried not to dwell on the fact that Gokudera had apparently scaled the side of his house to let himself in through a bedroom window. A stack of round-trip plane tickets were thrust into his face, followed by the disastrous revelation: "Tenth, guess what? We're going to Italy!"

Gokudera had then proceeded to rhapsodize over the possibilities of the trip, promising to show Tsuna the _best_ restaurant in the whole _country,_ plus the million and one world-famous tourist destinations, and so on. Reborn politely tolerated this for about three seconds before moving on, impatient to explain to Tsuna the _real_ reason they were heading to Italy.

Of course, it wasn't for fun.

The rest of the day was spent pursuing the remaining members of Tsuna's family and explaining to them that they were headed overseas on a nonstop flight to meet with the leader of the most powerful Mafia family in the world. Ryohei and Yamamoto seemed surprisingly game, although Tsuna could practically see everything he said slipping in one ear and out the other. Chrome interrupted herself in the middle of an adamant refusal with a half-cracked chuckle and "_This is a good opportunity for you, my cute Chrome_." Lambo simply lacked the brain capacity to argue.

Tsuna approached Hibari in the faint hope that he would leave the confrontation in an ambulance. Surely they wouldn't make him go to the conference sporting a fresh set of lacerations, bruises, and hairline fractures, right?

Right?

With Dino's presence, though, such was not to be. The Cavallone boss was the sole owner of Hibari's operating manual, and had a talent for handling the Cloud Guardian's flights of sociopathic fancy. You just had to keep him occupied, Dino explained, and he was harmless really. That feather-on-a-stick was pretty cheap at most pet stores(1).

Dino even offered to accompany them to Italy. Tsuna had thanked him, but somewhere deep down he knew it would be a sign of weakness. He wanted to show people that he could at least bring his loose cannons into line(2).

The seven Guardians, plus Reborn, had boarded a plane at near to midnight, all but Lambo seeming as awake as ever. The ride passed without bloodshed, disturbed only by an explosive temper tantrum by Lambo, and _almost_ culminated in a more literally explosive effort by Gokudera to shut him down.

It was only by the saving grace of Hibari's thousand-watt_ I Want Total Silence In The Next Thirty Seconds Or You'll Regret It For The Rest Of Your Life_(3) glare that the plane landed in one piece. Next had come the trial of lecturing Lambo that the baggage carousel was not, in fact, a ride, and to please get down from there this instant—no, _down_, not that way, and—Reborn, don't just stand there and smirk, _help_ me. They had then boarded a furtive-looking black SUV driven by an equally furtive-looking but extremely well-dressed man. The bespoke tailoring hadn't helped, though. It was all Mafia(4).

Car and driver both gave the impression of being not only expensive but extremely professional, and the man at the wheel obviously knew what he was doing. Or had been bribed by an enemy family to drive them all off a cliff. Lambo threw up, Chrome nearly did, and Ryohei proclaimed that it was the most _ex__treme__ly_ frantic car ride through an isolated mountainous region that he had even been on. Then he threw up as well.

Tsuna and his Guardians finally arrived at the small, secluded summer home where the Ninth boss was recuperating after the Ring battles; exhausted, disheveled, and entirely unready for the meeting that was about to take place(5). The Ninth had summoned them to meet him formally for the first time because it seemed vitally important that they discuss the process of making Tsuna the Vongola Family's official heir.

Important people had to be introduced, connections built, foes identified. There had to be _ceremony_. The entire political process was dependent on mingling at large parties and trying not to drop your glass or plate when shaking hands with strangers. Needless to say, Tsuna didn't think he was ready for intrigue of the Mafia life. The stuff-blowing-up he was pretty experienced with already.

The meeting had convened in a little parlor off the main hall, consisting of not only those who had flown from Japan but Tsuna's father and several members of CEDEF. The latter group stood demurely to the side, radiating a professional and vaguely threatening air. They were all right if you ignored them, but the people occupying the back corner of the room were another story altogether.

The Varia had been in conference (read: argument) with the Ninth only minutes before, and appeared to consider Tsuna's business only an extension of their own. The Ninth had shown no sign of wanting them out, and Tsuna rather suspected that the old man had kept them there to test him. What did the boss expect him to do, though? Tell the Varia to _go away?_

A slight noise from somewhere to his right jolted Tsuna from his thoughts and back into the highly intimidating little pressure-cooker of current reality. Half-afraid of what he would see, he turned and watched the discipline among his Guardians fizzle and disappear.

Up to this point they had been standing in a neat row behind him, this due in no small way to a bit of arm-twisting on Gokudera's part, but now it appeared that Lambo was alert enough for Round Two of what had begun on the plane. The child had attached himself like a leech to his adversary's angle and was digging his teeth in with every sign of enjoyment.

Tsuna cringed as the ever-helpful Yamamoto joined in, attempting to pry Lambo off of his prey. All eyes in the room were now on the Tenth Vongola and his family, and they _burned_. He could hear low snickers and snide remarks coming from the Varia.

Feeling like a rabbit in the path of an oncoming eighteen-wheeler, Tsuna whimpered quietly as Ryohei caught Gokudera by the collar, evidently with the intention of helping Yamamoto from the other side. Gokudera, partially lifted off the floor, was trying to swear in an inconspicuous way and having a bad time of it. The mortifying scene seemed to unfold in slow motion, mesmerizing in the same way that you can't tear your eyes away from a car crash.

Lambo's impressive tooth-grip suddenly broke, sending both he and Yamamoto flying backwards. Flopping onto the stunned swordsman's chest, he thrust a sticky hand into his afro. Tsuna barely caught the sniveling whimper as he did so.

"Must…_toler…ate_…"

He _knew_ what came next. Lambo did not disappoint—out came the Ten-Year Bazooka, looking slightly filthier for wear but still ominous with the promise of unadulterated chaos. Well, _more_ unadulterated chaos.

Lambo had barely set the bazooka to his head when Yamamoto's hands came up, attempting to wrest the weapon from his grasp. However, the Thunder Guardian was nothing if not stubborn. In the ensuing struggle, the bazooka was juggled wildly from hand to hand, turning end over end. Tsuna dared to hope that it would end up harmless on the floor—until reality kicked in, and the inevitable happened: the bazooka fired.

It was pointing skyward, and the shell ricocheted off the ceiling, spiraled drunkenly through the air, and landed squarely in the lap of the only human being legally classified as a "Hazardous Explosive Material" by international trade and travel regulations in twenty-three different countries around the world. This was Xanxus(6).

The words "what the hell" were halfway from his mouth before a billow of pink smoke engulfed him, obscuring all further obscenities. Helping a dazed Yamamoto to his feet, Tsuna saw the Ninth wrap his gnarled fingers around his scepter. Reborn, too, was hefting his pistol in a businesslike manner. The Varia had drawn back from the plume of mist gathered in front of their boss' chair, as all eyes turned to the dark shape looming there.

Said mist took a long time in clearing, as if to string out the suspense that tormented the occupants of the little room. When it had finally dispersed, however, no one seemed to have words for the sight that confronted them.

The Xanxus of the future was, as always, distinct. His face had sharpened a little with age, and his hair looked better-kept, but that arrogant scowl and the horrific scars that darkened his skin remained. His dress looked decidedly civilian, but what seemed to have disabled the frontal lobes of every intelligent being present was his companion.

Clutching his sleeve in dainty hands was a girl, no more than six years old, clad in a blue jumper and a soft knit hat with a bobble on. Curly dark hair fell just past her shoulders, and, under the scrutiny of the group she edged back behind Xanxus, pulling at his sleeve.

"Daddy…you said we were getting ice cream."

Following this remark, utter silence filled the space in Tsuna's skull that had once contained his brain. He felt sure that liquefied gray matter was spilling out his ears and messing the carpet. The CEDEF representatives and his Guardians seemed to be similarly affected, save for Lambo, who was out cold (courtesy of the overzealous Ryohei), and Hibari, who was used to real life pretending it was a horror movie.

The older Xanxus ignored the girl's complaint, turning his too-bright crimson gaze on the Ninth. "Old man. What's going on here?"

The boss shifted in his seat. He could feel the refined wrath pouring off his adopted son in waves, and he chose his next words carefully. "It seems an unknown assailant attacked a younger version of yourself with the Ten-Year Bazooka."

The temperature in the room seemed to be climbing. "So I'll be here for five minutes, yeah?"

"Yeah—yes. I do apologize for any inconvenience you have been caused, Xanxus," The Ninth seemed to be groping for the appropriate words, "There has merely been a misunderstanding."

"Save it. It's none of your business, old man, so you can—"

"_Daddy_. _Ice cream_." Xanxus's apparent offspring had gotten fed up with waiting. She scowled up at her father, showing clear signs of an impending sulk. Xanxus detached his gaze from the Ninth and turned to her.

"Pipe down, kid. Daddy'll get you your ice cream, give it five minutes."

As Tsuna struggled to process the novelty of Xanxus from any era or eventuality referring to himself as "Daddy", Yamamoto's good-humored lack of sense chose to make itself known. "And here I thought he was a _bad_ guy," the swordsman chuckled, "Who woulda thought?"

The room, just beginning to fill with the sound of severely disturbed individuals daring to try and breathe again, immediately fell silent. It was not a peaceful silence. It was more like a silence of the lambs. The little girl's scowl darkened, and she pointed an accusing finger at the Rain Guardian. "My daddy's the best daddy _ever_," she announced with vicious finality, "So shaddup or he'll fill you full of lead."

Xanxus grunted in what very well could have been slight embarrassment. He was not a man who liked to respond to words with _more_ words, preferring instead a semi-automatic and a few hand grenades(7). Because of this, he tended to be an effective negotiator, but there was just no response to a line like that.

The kid knew who her people were, though. Let it never be said that he was a parent who didn't stress family unity(8). And the PTA could stick their "unhealthy household" bullshit where the sun did not shine.

* * *

Ten years into the future, Xanxus is sitting on his rear on the sticky pavement, getting ready to explode. Staring at him with blatant disregard for his own safety is a freckled teenager who looks ready to duck behind his dinky ice cream cart.

Xanxus does not quite know what has happened to him, and he does not particularly care. He vaguely remembers pink smoke and a gathering of people who annoy him, and the only thing that matters now is that he is somewhere where he can express his frustration without getting told off by his old man.

The temperature starts to climb. The kid behind the ice cream cart is beginning to realize that the fact that the man and his daughter have disappeared, to be replaced by this angry stranger, is a _bad_ thing.

He is right in this respect. Xanxus has not met everyone in the world, but he wants to kill them anyway.

The plastic umbrella of the cart is melting with the sheer intensity of Xanxus' glare, and when his eyes sweep over the kid he feels his skin sear(9). The alpha male keeps control by showing off his strength, and Xanxus is no different—he awes the hapless teen with a demonstration of one of his many powers: Leaping Athletically to Your Feet in Tight Leather Pants(10).

It's a time-honored technique, and it has the desired effect. The kid's jaw drops, and Xanxus scowls at him. He kicks at the cart and his foot crashes right through the aluminum and plastic. It rolls to one side with a sad crunch, and there is fear in the kid's eyes.

Trembling, he holds out the last thing that might save him: the sundae ordered by the man who disappeared moments before. He clutches it like a peace offering, or maybe a shield, and the fudge starts to heat and bubble.

"F—free of charge," he stammers. "It's an offer you can't refuse."

"Does it have nuts?"

"Huh?"

"Does it have _nuts_," Xanxus growls menacingly. "I hate nuts."

"No! No! It's nut-free. _Pleasedon'tkillme_."

The mission parameters in Xanxus' head automatically reassign themselves from _eliminate all witnesses _to _finish sundae. Eliminate all witnesses_. This day could turn out all right.

* * *

1. _That feather-on-a-stick was pretty cheap at most pet stores. _Tsuna never really knew if Dino was joking about that one. It seemed almost too good to be true.

2._He wanted to show people that he could at least bring his loose cannons into line_. Later, when he had come to his senses, Tsuna was found researching the symptoms of early-onset dementia.

3. _It was only by the saving grace of Hibari's thousand-watt_I Want Total Silence In The Next Thirty Seconds Or You'll Regret It For The Rest Of Your Life_ glare that the plane landed in one piece._ It would be worth it to note that this threat was effective precisely because if you didn't obey, "the rest of your life" would only be about thirty seconds. Hibari was awfully precise about that sort of thing.

4. _They had then boarded a furtive-looking black SUV driven by an equally furtive-looking but extremely well-dressed man. The bespoke tailoring hadn't helped, though. It was all Mafia._ Or possibly _The Matrix_.

5. _Tsuna and his Guardians finally arrived at the small, secluded summer home where the Ninth boss was currently recuperating after the Ring battles; exhausted, disheveled, and entirely unready for the meeting that was about to take place. _Reborn was never exhausted, disheveled, or unready. Ever.

6. _… the only human being legally classified as a "Hazardous Explosive Material" by international trade and travel regulations in twenty-three different countries around the world. This was Xanxus. _This would have been an all-time record if not for the Second Vongola, a man barred from getting on planes in thirty-two nations and seven principalities around the world. It is said that his chemical makeup was so volatile that the imbalance caused by one ice cube too many in his bourbon could trigger a massive explosion.

7. _He was not a man who liked to respond to words with __more__ words, preferring instead a semi-automatic and a few hand grenades._ And, on one memorable occasion, an industrial-sized jar of gherkins and a plastic fork. It was the last time anyone ever proposed a "Vongola Family Picnic".

8. _Let it never be said that he was a parent who didn't stress family unity._ Xanxus did not just stress family unity, he subjected it to blunt trauma and violent assault on a regular basis.

9. _The plastic umbrella of the cart is melting with the sheer intensity of Xanxus' glare, and when his eyes sweep over the kid he feels his skin sear. _Later, an offhand comment from a friend about his great tan will trigger traumatic flashbacks.

10. _The alpha male keeps control by showing off his strength, and Xanxus is no different:—he awes the hapless teen with a demonstration of one of his many powers: Leaping Athletically to Your Feet in Tight Leather Pants. _Some of the others were Laughing Like a Nutjob Without Getting Winded; Making Horrible Disfigurements Look Cool; and Not Looking Silly When a Bird Has Apparently Been Nesting in Your Fashionably Disheveled Hair. This last was, incidentally, not unique to him.


End file.
